


Stark's Circus Merveille!

by frankenmoonmoon



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Coming of Age, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Slight Steam Punk, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankenmoonmoon/pseuds/frankenmoonmoon
Summary: COME ONE! COME ALL! COME TO STARK'S CIRCUS MERVEILLE, WHERE ALL YOUR WILDEST DREAMS COME TRUE! COME SEE THOR, THE GODLY STRONG MAN AND HIS MIGHTY HAMMER! HAWKEYE: ARCHER EXTRAORDINAIRE! NATASHA THE EXOTIC DANCER! THE INCREDIBLE TRANSFORMING HULK; YOU HAVE TO SEE IT TO BELIEVE IT! AND OF COURSE, THE ONE AND ONLY FLYING IRONMAN! IN TOWN FOR ONE WEEK ONLY! BE SURE TO CATCH THE LATEST ADDITION TO THE ACT, THE SCARLET WITCH AND HER MIND POWERS!!!***Tickets are available at the main tent, 8am-noon, talk to Miss Pepper Potts***





	1. The Not Real Man

Wanda awoke with a start, her surroundings foreign, dark and cold to her. For an instant, panic strangled her senses; she was back at the institution, and any moment the female ward would be in to give her “medicine” to suppress the delusions that Wanda could read minds, bend matter, and send things flying across the room with the graceful gesture of her hand.

But the light peaking in from the crude window of her train car brought her back to reality. The institution never had light; it was padded and dark. Always.

Wanda instantly shifted in her bed to open the window to let the morning light flood in to her small room. It was sparse, but it was hers. For a price, she reminded herself. Miss Maximoff kicked off the covers to adorn her underclothes, but she pulled Pietro’s worn wool sweater over her corset. Her “costume attire” had yet to be competed by Miss Pots, but she refused to wear her institutional frock. The only clothing she currently owned.

She would burn it when she had the chance.

She hiked up her limp petticoat to step down from her train car and hopped over the rails of the track to make her way towards the main tent. All the women occupied the train cars, but the men had crude tents across the camp. Pietro would probably still be sleeping.

In fact, there was very little activity in the camp, except for the animal trainers attending to their beasts. Wanda pushed some messy hair behind her ear, trying not to stare at animals that she had only ever seen in picture books as a child. Her eyes cast downward when the hands paused in their work to give her a look over and tilt their grimy caps in acknowledgment. She blushed and picked up the pace until she had reached the side of the main tent.

Canvas posters hung on the side, with elaborate illustrations of attractions. Thor: The Godly Strong Man; Hawkeye: Archer extraordinaire; The Flying Iron Man; Natasha the Exotic Dancer; The Incredible Transforming Hulk… were these people real? How could they possibly pull off such advertised stunts?

Wanda caught sight of the poster maker hard at work. She silently walked up to the man’s desk to see her face staring back… or rather it was her face, but adorning an alluring and mischievous expression that society would deem only suitable for brothel women. And wearing a costume that… well… that made Wanda’s cheeks flush crimson.

The Scarlet Witch.

Wanda backed into the main tent before the illustrator could turn to see her, feeling upset and violated. She would would never wear such a crude thing. She would never give those kinds of alluring looks to strangers. And she was most certainly NOT a witch!

The crackle of a fire in the dark space made Wanda whirl around to behold a man in the center of the circus ring surrounded by a few circus hands, pausing in their morning routine. They must have not heard her come in. The tent was large enough to fit scores of crowds. Wanda made her way to a support beam, to collect her thoughts on all she had taken in.

Had she escaped one prison to tumble into another? What exactly did Tony Stark expect of his ‘Scarlet Witch’ and her brother? The bright light from the fire breather distracted her from her dark thoughts once more.

He was tall, imposingly tall to Wanda’s petite height, but he had a youthful face. Or perhaps ageless. He showed skill and grace with the dangerous element… that was when Wanda realized that there wasn’t a bottle of alcohol in sight, as she had seen at other circuses when she was little. Fire breathers had a certain swagger to hide their drunkenness in order to keep the allusion of control, spewing forth tempered flames.

But this man simply snapped his fingers and a gentle flame would appear. He would softly blow upon it and it would increase, as if by request. It would travel with his long graceful arms, across his bare back, form a ring large enough for him to step through. It was like watching a mortal court and dance with a fire mistress.

Wanda didn’t realize that she had come closer, trying to find the key to the illusion, when her eyes sought out the man’s sculpted face. His eyes were down cast fixed on the flame; his brows were fixed in a permanent expression of silent and beautiful torture. His saddened face resinated deeply with her soul and she found her eyes becoming moist.

She understood the dance with something all to powerful to contain as well. It was a heavy burden to her. And yet this place would portray her to be as something beautiful and unique because of it. Just like this fire wielder. 

He gracefully lifted his arms above him, the ring of fire becoming a raging orb of fire, crackling mercilessly. Wanda clenched her fists in slight concern for the beautiful sad man. But he closed his eyes, face illuminated by the fire ball…

And dropped his hands.

Before certain death came crushing down upon him Wanda shouted out a warning and blasted herself over to him with a scarlet energy pulse. She had her arms open wide to hook around his waist and push him out of the way, but her arms closed around… nothing.

She crashed into the dirt floor and quickly looked back over her shoulder. How could she have missed? She was certain that she would see his body ablaze and writhing in the ring of fire…  
But he stared at her through the flames. He was not burned. He didn’t even sweat! And he came towards her through the flames; their vicious licks didn’t even touch his bare torso.

He stood over her, his sad eyes scanning her for injury… that’s when she noticed their unearthly blue glow. Wanda gasped as he, without permission, slid his hands under her to scoop her up into her arms.

“I… I’m fine…” She said flatly, unable to take her hazel gaze away from his. 

“Your left ankle is swollen.” He informed her. His voice was level yet smooth. He sounded educated and high-born. So what was he doing in a place like this?

Wanda was about to refute, but a simple flex of her foot made her reconsider. They were walking back towards the flames.

“So it is a trick then? The flames are not real?” Stark was known to be a progressive inventor as well as swindling Ring Leader. Surely projected flames were something easy to come by.

“The flames are real.” The man replied. Wanda held tighter around his neck, letting out a noise of distress as they approached the heat-felt, burning-scented, all too real flames, about to pass through.

The man locked eyes with her. “But I am not.”

They phased through the fire, flame passing through their intangible forms like harmless air.


	2. The Flying Iron Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know that Tony is only in half of this Chapter, but I'm laying the ground work for alot of backstory for him and Pepper. But the important part was giving the dynamics of Pepper and Tony; the two make up the heart of the Circus, even if they can't agree on everything.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Wanda’s ears were ringing. Circus hands were in a frenzy to put out the fire that the not real man had left behind. As they emerged out of the tent, she could see that the camp site was looking more alive with activity… but they all were soundless ghosts, moving to the deafening sound of her pounding heart. 

She dared to look back up at her savior, swallowing deeply to steel her courage. His stoic face was fixated on his path, but his gaze shifted to meet hers. She thought perhaps it had been her dulled morning senses that had perhaps tricked her into seeing blue glowing eyes in the tent…

But even in the overcast light outside, Wanda could see that his eyes were wheels, within spinning wheels of blue bursts of light. She shut her eyes tight and looked away, tensing in his arms. She tried entering his thoughts, but… there was nothing there to read.

What is he?

“Are you daft, Coulson? Or just plain stupid?” a nearby worker slapped the back of a youth’s head, sending his cap tumbling to the grass. The worker adjusted his eye patch in irritation, then crossed his dark arms. “Because ‘Flying Iron Man’ is a retired act. Is it not a retired act, Hill?” He shouted the last sentence louder.

“Sure is, Nicky.” a delayed female voice responded from a distance.

The youth picked his cap off the ground and dusted it against his breeches before placing it atop his head again. He began his humble apologies. “Nicky, uh sir, I am so, so-”

“Just take the damn picture down before the boss sees.”

“Yes Nicky… SIR… right away.”

“I won’t hurt you.” Wanda detached herself from the internal mutterings of the alleged “Nicky” and stole a hesitant glance at the not real man. “You are safe here, Wanda Maximoff.”

“How do you know my name?” she asked, guarded.

“I know all.” he replied somberly; a brief pause followed. Wanda felt a tight knot forming in her stomach. Was this being a god? “And word travels fast within the camp. You are the Scarlet Witch, if I am correct?”

Was… was that humor? She couldn’t tell. 

“I did not choose that name!” She retorted, defensively. “You think it is funny to make joke about your… your power? I don’t know you. And I saw you walk through flames…we walked through them!”

“After you selflessly attempted to save my life.” Now she was almost positive that he was patronizing her. “Thank you.”

“As if it made any difference!” She shot back, now squirming in his iron-fast hold. She didn’t care if her foot was swollen. “Put me down! What the hell are you?!”

“WHAT THE HELL???” Pietro whirled in fast, seemingly to appear from nowhere.

“Pietro!” Wanda cried out to him, happy to see a recognizable face with normal eyes.

“Let go of my sister, you lumbering oaf!” Pietro kicked the leg of the stranger with Wanda in his arms. The man didn’t flinch, but Pietro backed against a post, clutching his leg and swearing in Sokovian Yiddish. 

“I will put Miss Maximoff down if you will not do that again, Mister Maximoff.” The not real man promised, about to lower her for her brother to take.

Pietro flexed his leg and winced. “No..no, it’s fine. You can carry, oaf man.”

“The medic car is just ahead.” 

“Yes.. yes fine…” Pietro limped to the side, speaking to his sister. “And why exactly do you need carrying, little sister?” He grunted. “We’ve been here one night an already I regret bringing us here…”

“I’m fine…” She wanted to reach out to her brother’s hand, for some contact, to withdraw into his mental protective love for her, but they were at the medic car before long. The tall not real man had to bend his graceful neck and duck his head to fit through the entrance way; his mess of blonde curly hair fell in his face.

His head remained slightly bowed. “Is Doctor Banner-”

“Indisposed in his tent.” A woman stood up from the table. She was tall and fair, lined with only a few noticeable signs of age, with light auburn hair pulled away from her face. “As usual. I’ve come for his medicine.” Wanda detected that her dialect resembled the fire dancer very closely; well educated and English.  
The woman finally realized who was being carried. Her expression was instantly riddled with concern. “Oh, dammit! Not the new talent! Viz, put her on the bed.”

‘Viz’ complied. 

“I may be hurt, too…” Pietro notified the room, glaring at the fire dancer’s back.

The woman didn’t hear, or ignored him. She held Wanda’s hand gently. “Darling, I am Miss Potts. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She was pleasant, though iced with tight worry.

“Are you a nurse?” Wanda asked.

“No. Seamstress… and Head of Finances. And novice lawyer.” She maternally tucked a strand of wayward hair behind Wanda’s ear. “Now I do have to ask if you have signed your liability contract as of yet…”

“W-what?” Wanda hesitated.

“I’ll take that as a no. Damnation, Tony. Always so eager to sign a new talent but sans the signing.” She had a plastered smile, trying to hide the fury, but she shook it off. “So now on to the heart of the matter: were you trampled, burned, froze, magnetized, teleported, unnaturally transformed, etc… or are you experiencing dizziness or light-headedness due to: being magnetized, teleported, unnaturally transformed?” Wanda stared at Miss Potts, trying to comprehend. “And I do believe there is a fellow here with a forked tongue and reptilian scales with who many females have reported blistering rashes after… ahem… relations…”

“What the hell, woman???” Pietro burst, defending his sister’s honor.

Wanda wrenched free from the strange woman. “We’ve been here one night.”

“Well you would be surprised how fast that lizard brute charms the dim ones.” Potts gave a half laugh.

“It is her right ankle, Miss Potts.” Viz offered.

The sincere smile on Potts’ face dimmed at the sound of his voice. She didn’t give him a response or glance. She began unlacing Wanda’s boot.

“And I believe that Mister Maximoff may have experienced some minor trauma to his-”

“Viz, don’t you have anywhere else to be? You’re simply taking up space in this tiny room.” Miss Potts interrupted curtly. “It’s not productive at all. Go… practice your fire tricks.”

The Maximoff twins sensed the sudden chill in the room and remained silent. Viz, having never looked up at Miss Potts, glanced up to make eye contact with Wanda. She felt drawn in to those frighteningly beautiful eyes once more, but she remained guarded this time. He must not be a savory character with his bad humor and Miss Potts’ apparent seal of disapproval…

But his eyes had never changed from their sad expression. Not once. A sad god.

“Thank you for saving me.” He uttered once more. “You are… kind, Miss Maximoff.”

Wanda’s lips parted, unsure of how to respond, but Viz had already gracefully left the room. Miss Potts eased a bit, her smile returning gradually. That’s when Wanda saw it. It was so obvious that she felt a fool for not seeing it before; the fair skin and hair, the distinct nose, the slight differences of bone structure between male and female… and the sad… sad blue eyes.

“He’s… your son.” Wanda blurted. The woman before her slowed in her work of bandaging her patient’s ankle. “Viz is. Yes?”

Potts shook her head. Friendly smile, but her words were firm. “He’s not my son.” After a moment, the dark cloud passed.

“I… I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…” Wanda felt as though she had stumbled onto something rather painful for the woman. She did her best not to pry into the tightly clamped thoughts of Pepper… yes, that was her first name….of Pepper Potts. Thankfully, Wanda’s brother was doing something idiotic. “Pietro! Get out of that!”

“There is a hell ton of opium in here.” Pietro squinted at the tiny labels. He held one of the large vials up to Potts. “Was this the ‘medicine’ you were talking about earlier?”

“Please,” Potts stood and walked over to the cabinet, plucking the vial out of Pietro’s hand. “…Don’t snoop. Snooping is dangerous in a circus.”

“I’ll say… what kind of place is this? That list of injury… I don’t even know what half of that means!” He huffed.

“Shocking.” came a smooth, yet slightly pretentious, voice from the entrance. The twins beheld the man that had given Pietro the resources he had needed to help his sister escape to freedom: the American, born and bred, inventor and showman extraordinaire… Anthony Stark.

“Your sister summons pretty scarlet energy with her fingertips and you are unfathomably fast… and you two think you are the only unique things in this whole wide world?” He gave a patronizing grin to both twins. Wanda was already disliking him. And his ridiculous facial hair.

Stark strolled over to the beside, his expensive boot heels clicking against the wooden floor loudly. “Is it bad?”

“Just a swollen ankle.” Potts responded, then shaking her head. “It’s 8:30 in the bloody morning, Tony…”

“Hmmm?”

“I can smell the gin on your breath- I’m so sorry about this darling.” She lifted Wanda’s foot and placed it on some pillows for elevation. “Men… you can divorce them… but you damned well can’t escape them. Or their gin-soaked breath.” Wanda smirked. She liked Potts. She knew that right away.

“Can she perform?” Tony asked Potts, ignoring Wanda.

“When?”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow nigh- Tony, she hasn’t even met with Natasha yet! She has a swollen ankle, and on top of that I am backed up to my eyes in sequins and satin: her costume is NOT done.”

“I have every confidence in you, my dear.” Stark kissed Potts on the side of the head. She jerked her head away.

“DON’T ‘my dear’ me!” She stood up, a few inches higher then her ex-husband. “Do not rush this one.” This warning seemed to sober Tony a bit. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

Pietro walked up to Stark. “So, boss man. What act do you have in mind for me?” He asked, trying to sound disinterested. “I suppose I have to earn my keep as well. And I have a name that I guess maybe you could use, if you must.” Tony feigned interest. “How about ‘Pietro: The Running Man’!” He gestured with his hand extravagantly and awaited Stark’s reaction.

“You’ve thought long and hard about this, haven’t you?” Stark gave a sigh and then closed his eyes, envisioning. “You’re hair.. it’s silver-like; we can use that. Silver, it’s alluring, it’s solid, it’s rich. And you’re quick…” Tony opened dark brown eyes. He gestured grandly… “‘Quicksilver’…also synonymous with ‘mercury’, which is not only an element, but a planet… nay…A GOD. The messenger god to Jupiter!”

Pietro blinked. “Yeah… yeah that is good too.”

“Well if you prefer ‘Running Man’…”

“No no! I like the Quicksilver! Do you like it, Wanda?” His sister gave a somewhat supportive smile. He turned back to Stark. “Okay, so what is my act?”

“Well, you’re going to get a large shovel from the shed across camp…” Pietro nodded to his new boss’s instructions firmly. “Then you’re going to put on some overalls,” the young man straightened, confused. “And then you’re gonna head over to the elephant cage and clean up all that elephant fecal matter… as fast as you can.” 

Pietro was frowning. “I have incredible powers!”

“That no one can see.” Stark retorted. “I can’t market that. So unless your powers start manifesting more visibly like your sister’s… the elephants await, Quicksilver.”

Wanda gave a sympathetic grimace to her brother before he muttered obscenities in his native tongue. Before he left, he kissed his sister on the forehead. “Get better… soon, Wanda.”

Stark stood out of the way as wind shot past him. He tried to peer out the door to see if he could follow the speedster, but he gave up. He looked at Wanda.

“You and your brother are becoming a real pain in my ass. And this day has just started.” He informed her. He then looked at Potts. “By they way, I fired Phillip. So Pietro can probably fill in-”

“Not the Coulson boy! Oh how could you, Tony! He loves this place!”

“And he loved making a mess of it, too…”

“You know… his mother is on her death bed…”

“Oh christ. Here we go.”

“This job was the only thing keeping poor Phil sane.” Potts produced a lace hankie from her sleeve. “She is so proud of him…”

“And what is the woman dying of, pray tell?”

“Oh, you know… it’s…oh it’s…um,”

“Small Pox?” Wanda offered.

“Don’t encourage her.” Start retorted.

“Oh no it’s…it’s so much worse! It’s… CHOLERA!”

“Cholera?”

“Yes. Cholera. And her head is just full of pus.”

“Pus, huh?” Stark gave a look to Wanda, who in turn gave a curt shrug of her shoulders.

“Soooo much pus, Tony.”

Tony sighed. “It’s amazing how many mothers suddenly fall ill as soon as I want to fire some hands around here.” He finally gave in, giving a small but genuine grin to Pepper. It was gone in an instant. “But I want the Scarlet Witch costume ready, tomorrow, in time for her lesson with Natasha.” His ex wife was about to protest but he put his hand up. “Those are the terms of the agreement, take it or leave it. Yes, you, with the hand. Please stop raising you hand.”

Wanda put her hand down at his insisting, feeling foolish, but she took a breath. “I would like to change my stage name.”

“Absolutely not. That is not up for negotiation.” He shot back.

“But-”

“Anything else? Alright then.” He pointed to Wanda. “You, get well. And you…” He looked up at Potts. “Get to work.”

“Please just leave.” His ex was practically at the door trying to urge him out. He gave a final bow before stumbling down the stairs. Potts slid the door to the car shut to prevent anymore intruders. She leaned against it and straightened some hairs that had worked loose during her spout with Tony.

“So… that was your new employer.” She said sweetly, trying to instill confidence in the new recruit.


	3. Natasha Romanoff: The Exotic Dancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wen't with Romanoff, instead of Romanova...hope that doesn't bother anyone. She has a medium role in this chapter, but we'll see her again. Her story seeps into other characters'. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The rest of the day, Wanda was sequestered in her own car, to heal. Herbs and odd remedies has been slathered on her ankle to stop the swelling, and then her foot was bound to give the injured joint some extra support.

She wasn’t sure how much she trusted the medical treatment of Miss Potts, but since Dr. Banner still could not rally himself to make a trip to the medical car, Pepper’s administrations would have to do. Besides, the woman seemed to genuinely care about Wanda and her brother; about everyone, really.

Except Viz. Wanda wasn’t so sure if she trusted him either… but she had no reason to dislike him.

Pepper instructed Wanda to slowly make it back to her own car, testing out the limits of the injury, and then to rest. The trip was long, and there were several times that Wanda lost footing on the uneven ground, but there always seemed to be a pair of hands ready to catch her; one set belonging to Phillip Coulson, who she was relieved to see after his near employment termination. He was sweet and awkward, but broad and strong. His hair was already receding on his young head, creating a little tuft on top that blew in the breeze like duck downy when he had his cap off.

He was unsure about letting her continue on her way alone, but after assuring him 5 times that she would be fine, his worry wavered. The binding to her angle had been done very well. Perhaps Stark would have his way and Wanda would be ready for her ‘training’ tomorrow, whatever that meant.

What would this Natasha…the Exotic Dancer… have to teach Wanda? Certainly she would not be expected to dance seductively for the audiences! She wouldn’t do it, if it came to that. Never. She may have been treated less than human for the past 2 years of her life at the asylum, but she would never compromise her propriety.

Never ever.

When Wanda reached her car, all flustered and upset with the prospect of being made to ‘dance’ suggestively… she noticed a cluster of deep red wild flowers on her stoop. She blinked and picked them up. They were bound together by grass that had been braided together to form a sort of string in which to tie around the dainty bundle.

Jupiter’s Beard is what one of the orderlies had called it, when Wanda had asked what those red flowers in the distance were, looking out past the iron bars, past the gray and stone buildings into patches of sunlit grass. It attracted butterflies. That’s all she got when she inquired about them, before she was heavily medicated.

Wanda held the flowers delicately in her hand and sniffed their red pedals; they smelled sweet. No wonder why the butterflies loved them. Pietro must have left them for her, as he was the only one that she told about the mysterious flowers when she was incarcerated. She smiled at his sweetness and took them inside as she gingerly hobbled into her living space.

She was afraid they might need water, so she took the only drinking cup in the room, filled it with water from the wash basin, and set it on her antique vanity. It was the only other real furnishing in her car aside from her bed, a chair, and low dresser. It’s mirror was cloudy and discolored… but the brightness of the scarlet flowers brought out the cherry tint of it’s wood. 

Wanda let out a sigh and made her way to her bed. She never thought that she would desire sleep ever again, having been medicated and drugged to sleep most of the time in the institution, but her sense of ease made her realize that true sleep was actually a gift. She was out like a light, lightly snoring and lazily turning over in her bed every now and then.

But as night approached, and the air becoming cool and light smothered out, perspiration began to trickle down Wanda’s face as she tossed and turned. 

They were grabbing her wrists. Wrenching them into the restraints. A not so subtle prick to her arm as they drugged her; her doctor watching her in her indecent state, glasses obstructing her view of his eyes as they reflected back the lamp light. They were going to leave her, in the dark, with the cold restraints, uncovered…

Wanda’s eyes flickered open. She sat up with a half-sob, feeling flashes of hot and freezing fear swelling up and down her back. She held herself and looked around her dark room, which had been almost inviting during the day, now looking so imposing at night. She got up and made her way to the vanity to gaze at her pale, frightened face; would it always be like this? Her eyes went down to the red flowers, her finger stroking their firm yet silky little pedals. 

She needed Pietro. Pietro always made her feel safer.

Wanda grabbed his sweater and pulled it over herself as she left the car, forgetting about her injured ankle as she jumped down from the stoop. But she experienced no pain as she hit the ground running. She had her skirts in her hands, breath shaky as she reached out for his mind. She couldn’t remember the path to his tent, but all she had to do was reach out with her powers, search for that uniquely confidant patterned brain of his and…

She finally had him; latching on to his location. Her feet moved of their own accord. Toward safety.

When Wanda reached his tent and pulled the flap back, Pietro jolted awake, a small snort escaping in his tired state.

“Huh?” he managed, eyes straining to stay open.

Without a word, Wanda climbed under his blankets with him, sniffling. Pietro instantly realized what was happening as soon as she was beside him. It had happened so often when they were children: sweet little Wanda coming to her twin brother’s bed for warmth and assurance. He wrapped the covers around her more securely and slipped his arms around hers.

“I’ll protect you, sister.” he murmured, making his thoughts calm, loving, and inviting to her. Wanda was drawn to them like a moth to a flame.

“I know.” she warbled. She let out a shuddering sigh and then settled down into his warmth. “Thanks. For the flowers.” She finally said.

But Pietro was out. Wanda sighed to herself again, glad to see that he had a low-burning candle in his tent. She stared at it’s flickering flame until exhaustion rubbed at her eyes, insisting that they close once more.

Outside the tent, Viz listened until her breathing was as calm and slow as her brothers before he moved away. He had been outside of her train car, as he did not need much sleep to function, and followed her from a distance when she ran deeper into camp to find Pietro. He had been concerned for her well-being, in her frightened and disoriented state, that she might fall or further injure herself… but she was a graceful creature even whilst in a chaotic flutter.

She didn’t need Viz. But he felt drawn to watch over her, even without Stark having commanded him to do so in the first place.

He walked out into the fields that surrounded the encampment, admiring the moonlight upon the wild flowers and tall grass. He found more of the red valerian, Jupiter’s Beard, and braided some grass before picking more of the the little scarlet flowers for her…

***

An hour before sunrise, Wanda rose and went back to her train car. There were already hands and performers up and readying the main tent for tonight’s performance. She avoided all interaction, to avoid inquiries as to why she was over in the men’s tents, but if anyone happened to spot her, she would simply circle her index finger and they would forget they ever saw her this morning.

When she made it to her stoop, once again, a small bundle of those flowers, tied with braided grass, occupied the space. Her smile faded. It couldn’t have been Pietro. He had been fast asleep all night, and someone would have had to place it here late…or early morning. Who could it have been? Who cared enough to give her this simple pleasantry? She hardly knew anyone at the circus.

She accepted the offering and took it to the cup on her vanity, to keep the other bundle company. She then made herself more presentable, attempting to brush through her wayward hair, and adorned a bun that required a little more effort. She let some tendrils fall, to frame her face, and nodded at her reflection.

It would have to do.

She climbed back out of the car to see Viz waiting for her. She stopped in her tracks, and then slowly approached him. 

“Are you following me, Viz?” She asked, brow raised.

“Would not one assume that you would be in your room at this hour?” he retorted, gently.

“Well… I suppose…yes…” Wanda stammered, feeling rather silly over her suspicion. Viz was odd, but he wasn’t a threat. She was beginning to realize that.

“I have come to invite you to breakfast, Miss Maximoff.” he continued, not holding her in contempt for her initial tone. “Miss Natasha Romanoff is eager to meet you.”

“Yes, of course.” Wanda nodded. “Lead the way then…”

“Of course.” Viz shifted, offering his bent arm for her to hold on to; a very gentlemanly gesture. For a lady of high standing. 

Honestly, he looked so strange, in his pulper clothing, hair a windblown mess, gallantly offering her his arm like a prince… but perhaps he actually was a prince. There was no pretense to his grace and gentleness. Wanda cast her eyes downward, but she accepted his arm and allowed him to escort her to the dinning tent.

Usually the performers dined in the dinning cart of the train, Viz explained, but the dewey morning was so enjoyable that breakfast had been prepared in a tent off to the side of the main one. Or rather it was two tents… in an attempt to accommodate all of the performers.

Wanda blinked at all that she saw, unwittingly clinging tighter to Viz; she saw persons tattooed from head to foot, white hair, green hair, purple hair, a beast looking fellow covered completely in blue fur, and people with strange contraptions attached to themselves to give them wondrous abilities. And then of course, there was the category that she fell under: individuals that appeared normal… but held incredible power that manifested itself on command. Some people were playing with their abilities, showing off what their latest act entailed. 

Viz placed a graceful hand over hers, sensing her unease. It pulled Wanda back to reality. “Miss Natasha Romanoff: I would like you to meet Miss Wanda Maximoff.”

A woman with medium-length, red, wavy hair turned from her meal to inspect Wanda. Natasha wasn’t at all what the young woman was expecting. She thought that her instructor would be dainty, dark-haired, an islander, in a skimpy belly-dancing attire. Natasha was a sturdy, yet supple built woman, taller than Wanda, fair skin and red hair, green eyes, wearing a black button-down blouse with black slacks and riding boots. The only thing that did give away her true profession was a beaded skullcap that resembled a black a spiderweb with a black widow spider clutching at a tear-shaped rhinestone, which dangled right above the brows. In truth, she looked like the mighty Artemis ready for a hunt.

Or a funeral.

Wanda gulped as Natasha rose from her seat and inspected the shorter woman; the sounds of numerous performers enjoying breakfast and each other’s company seemed to die down, zeroing in on the interactions of these two women. 

Natasha finally nodded to herself in approval. She finally offered her cleverly graceful hand. “I’ve heard so much about you, Wanda Maximoff.”

“Oh? Really?” Wanda accepted the hand in a warm embrace with hers. As warm as it could be with her being so nervous.

“Yes. Stark won’t shut up about you.” she answered, releasing her hand. “So we better get started. So we don’t disappoint his confidences in you.”

That… was not a compliment. It was a challenge. Wanda gulped again. A grin splashed across Natasha’s fair face. “Don’t worry… I don’t bit. Not on your first day.” Her accent was heavy like Wanda’s, but her english was impeccable. “So how about we stroll on over to Pepper’s and see how far she has gotten on you’re…” Natasha looked Wanda up and down, in her gritty white asylum skirt and worn men’s sweater. “…attire. Anything will be better than that.” 

Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, feeling rather self-conscious. She glanced back at Viz. His gaze was downcast.

Natasha looked at him, as if she had forgotten about him. “Viz… go help Stark with… tickets.” She said, giving Wanda the suspicion that it wasn’t admissions that Natasha was referring to. Viz nodded, understanding, and turned to go.

Wanda’s turned quickly as well. “Thank you.” She said to the not real man. He paused in leaving, turning his head towards her. “For…escorting me.” 

‘For being kind, despite my apprehension.’ she wanted to add, but she held her tongue. He seemed to understand anyways and gave her a nod before continuing on to find Tony Stark.

Natasha grabbed an apple and tore off bread from a loaf to give to Wanda. “Apologies, but we’re going to have to eat and run.” She slipped her arm though the younger woman’s and directed her down a grassy path between tents.

Wanda tried to act normal, but this woman, like the black widow pendant on her headpiece, exuded strength and danger that she was not used to being this close too. She nearly choked on her apple.

“Dear god. Please chew.” Natasha tisked. “Stark and Potts were right about you. You are quickly becoming a liability.” She ushered Wanda towards the costuming car, and followed in after her.

Pepper Potts hadn’t been lying when she said that she was up to her eyeballs in sequins: it was hard to move around inside the spacious car with all the costumes organized into chaotic piles.

“Wanda! Ah! I’m nearly done with your witch costume…” Pepper said, needle with a thread between her lips, at a machine, looking upon her work with pride…though squinting through spectacles. “And here we are!” She held up a red, sweet-heart breasted bodice that was littered with ruby sequences and stones. The blonde woman smiled with victory, proud to have it done by the deadline. Coulson’s employment had been dependent on it.

“So? What do you think?” she asked, excited for youth’s reaction.

Wanda blinked. Her mouth dry. “…is that all of it?” was all she could muster.

Pepper’s face fell slightly. Natasha couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle. “All of…? I suppose it’s worth mentioning that you’ll have a skirt and head dress… but… this is it.”

Wanda put her apple down, summoning up resolve. “I’m not wearing that.”

“The devil’s asshole, you won’t!” Pepper blurted, losing it. Natasha was laughing outright now, taking a costume and making her way to the dressing area. The blonde tore off her spectacles and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath, and exhaling. “Why, pray tell, would you decide a thing like that.”

“Would you???” Wanda shot back, exasperated. 

Pepper Potts stared at the girl, realizing that she wasn’t some rough vagabond that Tony picked up along the way; someone willing to do anything to make money. This girl had pride and propriety that she had not given up on. Pepper’s face softened and she put a hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“I think we can make this work…” She assured the younger woman. She then went to a chest and pulled out some body-length… what looked like under garments for men… but these were silk, colorful, with dainty buttons. Pepper pulled out a pink one and offered it to Wanda, after handing her the red skirt and headdress.

Wanda let out a sigh, but she accepted, taking position behind a pile of clothing and began changing. The body suit was comfortable, silk, and had a single pearl button to close the slit in the back. The corset had a strip of cloth built into it that would go in between her legs for security, while the corset was a little more tricky to lace in the back. Potts had to help her with that. And then came the headdress.

When she finally looked in the mirror, she could hardly recognize herself. While she felt more covered, the cut of everything still showed off every curve, every pertness, of her young nubile body. She felt naked, even under all of the layers. 

“Hmmmmm… it’s missing something…Oh I know!” Potts scuttled off to the far end of the car.

“I, for one, would never be caught dead in something like that.” Natasha’s dry voice said. “You look like a complete floozy.”

The youth shot a glance at Natasha, angry, upset, humiliated… only to burst out laughing. The woman was clad in nothing else but sequined fabric that covered, though not very well, her breasts and lower regions, with white rhinestone webbing over her abdomen and a matching necklace of webbing. There was back fringe that hung down from that fabric that rode low upon her hips, swaying sensuously every time she took a step.

“You should be completely ashamed, Wanda Maximoff!” Natasha scolded. Her tone so serious, which made it all the more funny to the youth. Romanoff adorned a small grin and walked over to Wanda.

“You look like a young goddess, you know.” She said, putting her hands on Wanda’s shoulders as they looked at her reflection. “Like the Goddess of Wisdom: Athena.”

Wanda flushed at that. “How can I go anywhere looking like this???” She asked. “It’s… not me…”

“You’re completely right. This isn’t you.” Natasha agreed firmly. “This is the Scarlet Witch, who many will come from all over to see… to fulfill their need of escape and wonderment.” She slowly turned the young woman toward herself. “Keep Wanda guarded safely. She belongs to no one but you, do you understand?”

Something in Natasha’s eyes made Wanda feel as though there was a hidden message in those words. Something shrouded in experience and pain. She felt out into the woman’s mind to find the source… but the woman’s mind was a maze of images, riddles, and emotions too complex to root through.

Who had done that to her?

“Here we are!” Potts returned with a long scarlet piece of fabric and matching gloves. She fastened the fabric around Wanda’s shoulders like a cape and handed over the gloves. 

Potts breathed at the marvelous sight. “Oh… now that is completely you….”


	4. iv. The Godly Strongman Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, this is where that dubious consent comes into play, so if you a triggered by anything that is remotely none-consensual, please do not read this chapter.
> 
> The one thing that I'm trying to establish is that everyone has their secrets. This is not Viz's main secret, it's more of Thor's. And Thor is MESSED UP BAD from his loss. So he's not thinking clearly.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and that the twist keeps you reading... to see it resolved. Thank you.

“I can’t move like that…” Wanda murmured, clutching at her arm as she watched Natasha’s lucid hips sway.

“Of course you can. The human body-”

Wanda cut in. “No.. I mean…I can’t…” she said more firmly, conveying her prudish limitations.

“Ah…well I don’t know what to tell you, mалышка.” Natasha continued her sensuous dance, but maintained eye contact with her new prodigy. “…But you cannot just stand there, clenching your fists. There is nothing to draw anyone in with such a stance. You must create the mystery and appeal with your body.” To demonstrate, Natasha did a graceful somersault away from Wanda, gracefully sliding into the splits as she planted her landing.

Wanda’s mouth dropped. “I don’t think I could do that even if I wanted to.” There was a small part of her that admired the appeal of the experienced woman before her… but a larger part that could hear Peitro’s disapproval in her ear; she was his little sister. Not some brothel hussy. Not that she thought of Natasha in that manner.

The teacher sighed, bending her legs to the side and then slowly getting up with so much poise, yet managing to kick up some of the soft dirt of Arena Tent. It had just been raked and flattened for practice. In the far distance, other performers were milling about, practicing their acts and chatting quietly. Chortling over the incompetency of the new girl. 

Well… not out loud. But Wanda could hear their thoughts. It made her want to sink into the soft dirt. That’s when she heard the gentle, wordless whirring of Viz’s mind. She looked up to see him once again with fire in his graceful hands. She wanted to watch, but Natasha beckoned her back into focus with her words.

“Perhaps we can approach this a different way. Not everything exotic has to come from the pelvis.” She walked over to Wanda and took her hands in her own, examining their slenderness. “Your hands and arms are quite appealing. Do you have to clench your fists for your powers to work? Or is that a mental crutch?”

Wanda blinked at her, surprised at the question; she had never been asked about her powers before, outside of Pietro. It felt so strange, yet welcoming, to be discussing her abilities so openly. “My fists don’t have to be tight. The work is happening from my mind. The physical reaction is more for focus, and direction.”

“Then what if you made the hand gestures more graceful?” Natasha asked, raising hers to demonstrate. “As if there are a multitude of ribbons in the air and you must pluck the right one with precision…” Her gesture was lovely… and conservative. “Or perhaps, as though you are brushing your finger tips against the surface of a lake, creating ripples…”

Wanda slowly raised an arm, and tried a move, but it seemed tactless and rigid. She immediately let her arm fall with a huff.

“Come on, mалышка.” Natasha did more moves until Wanda felt comfortable enough to join back in. It was already an improvement, but the girl still seemed too unrelaxed. “Do you dance, Wanda?”

Wanda eyed her.

“Not like I do… but as people in polite society do.” She received a nod from the girl. “Alright, add in some foot work and twirls with your arm movements.

The Scarlet Witch gave a hesitant nod and complied. Something seemed to lock into place and her movements were now relaxed and graceful. She followed her arms, as if they were the source of her being, her red energy pulsing around her hands as she plucked at the threads in the sky.

“Hold on a moment…” Natasha grinned at what she was seeing, but stepped forward to undo Wanda’s bun, letting her wavy hair cascade down loose down her back. “Alright… continue.”

The young woman obeyed the other, feeling loose and free in her enchantress dance, swirling, spinning energy with her hands, hair trailing behind her wildly. Her heart fluttered, and she smiled. She truly smiled… how intoxicating this feeling was. After being locked up for so long in a tiny room, with any form of creativity being seen as a form of defiance to be met with forced submission. Tears almost came to her eyes as she spun faster and faster, the energy in her swelling about her and her hands, her heart thundering now…

“WANDA!” Natasha yelled, almost from a distance.

Wanda’s eyes snapped open; her face was upturned, looking at the top of the tent… with didn’t seem that fair away… when she began to plummet. She let out a scream as she felt her self falling. A terrifying sensation that obscured any thought to use her power to save herself.

But she felt two strong arms catch her when she should have hit the ground. She looked up and expected to see Viz, wanting to cling and bury her face into his neck as she got her bearings… but the strong cologne and musk tipped her off that her savior was not the sad not real man.

She heard a strong chuckle, which shook the arms that held her tiny form. “Let’s leave the flying to the birds and gods, little mortal.”

Wanda looked up to see the man from the ‘Thor’ poster ad she had seen the previous morning, though it hardly did this creature’s handsomeness any justice.

“What… what h-happened?” Wanda asked, still skittish from what had just transpired.

“You were dancing one moment, and then you flying in the air the next.” Natasha reported. She had seen so many fantastic and marvelous things at this place… a flying girl wasn’t earth shattering to her, but it had been unexpected. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine…” she said, squirming in the strongman’s grasp until he set her down. “I just… don’t have control over all my abilities…”

Natasha stroked her chin. “Perhaps you will not be ready for tomorrow’s performance. Stark will not like that…”

“To hell with him.” the strongman retorted. Wanda blinked up at him. He winked at her and pat the top of her head. “This child needs training and nurturing for what is to come. Not stardom!”

“‘What is to come?’” Wanda repeated. “Can someone maybe explain, ‘what is to come?’” Thor and Natasha exchanged looks, and a mutual understanding passed between them.

“You’ll learn soon enough, mалышка.” Natasha soothed. “For now, let us practice again.”

“I’ll stay near, in case our little witch decides to float away again.” Thor grinned. His smile was mesmerizing. Unworldly. And his blonde hair…it seemed to flow in a breeze that Wanda could not detect.

“Miss Maximoff, are you quite well?” came a polite gentle voice. Wanda knew it well by now and her face turned to meet and acknowledge Viz. She didn’t notice that his gaze flickered to Thor, went downcast, and then back to her.

“I’m fine, Viz. Don’t let me keep you from your practice.” She was tired of being treated like a little girl-doll by these people. She wanted to be strong, and to show them the strength she felt inside… but her body had been so malnourished, drugged for so long… she appeared so fragile…

That was going to change.

Viz closed his mouth, but after another undetected thought in his void of his mind, his lips parted once more. “Miss Maximoff…” She turned towards him, trying to feign annoyance, but his almost nervous expression disarmed her immediately. “Your act is quite… lovely.”

Natasha spoke up. “She said she is fine, Viz.” His head immediately bowed down in understanding and he turned away. Natasha had been firm with him… but it didn’t escape her notice… the way he had been looking at Wanda. He had never looked at another human being in that sort of way before. It was something that she would have to report to Stark. It had to be a malfunction…

Wanda let out a sigh when Viz was out of ear-shot though, knowing him and his strange ways, he could probably still hear what she was saying. “Why is everyone so callous with him? He always seems so… sad…”

“Be careful, little mortal.” Thor said sternly. “Viz is… not like other men of this world…”

“It’s best if you stay clear of him.” Natasha added, sensing that perhaps Viz’s feeling were not one-sided. He seemed to have an attachment to this girl… and she was beginning to develop protective instincts towards him. That much was clear.

“Why?” The dreaded question left Wanda’s lips, her eyebrow arched.

“To avoid any unhealthy attachments.” Natasha responded, giving Thor a side-glance. He seemed to ignore her.

“So he is an unsavory sort after all?” Wanda asked, disappointed. She liked Viz, as imposing as he was. But to hear her new mentor and this strongman talk from experience…

“No, not at all. He’s simply…” Natasha knew that Stark would have to explain it; there were just too many follow-up questions that would result in her revealing a secret that wasn’t hers to reveal. “…He’s different, Wanda. Too different from you and me.” That obviously didn’t satisfy the young prodigy, but she nodded in understanding.

In understanding that this topic couldn’t be pursued any longer.

The practice continued for a few more hours, until the rehearsal for that night’s show began. Wanda was instructed to report to the serving tent for food, and then to go to her box car to rest. Exhausted, she didn’t refuse, making her way back towards her bed… but once more paused to see the ever-reliable bundle of red flowers on her stoop. She grinned as she picked them up and smelled them. She was enjoying this daily ritual.

After making sure that they would get water from the bowl containing the other bundles, she shed off her costume, tenderly folding and setting it on the only chair in that room. She put a shift on that had been laid out for her; no doubt Miss Potts had seen to making it special for her, since she had very few clothing accommodations. She brushed her hair until it felt soft, then climbed into her narrow bed. 

The sun was setting and the circus was now coming to life with mystery and mischief. She left her window open so she could watch the lights and hear the music, but the lights blurred together and the music muted as her senses slipped into unconsciousness. She would get to see it all tomorrow.

She would even be apart of it.

Before she was out, her mind pondered the mystery of the flowers. Who cared enough to make her feel special in this way? Pietro was out because he would never be able to wake up early enough to do the deed; she hardly new Coulson; it didn’t seem that Stark was capable of that degree of tenderness; and she had just met Thor today…

That left Viz.

It did seem something he was tender enough to do. She imagined him in the back fields, away from the track, stooped over the small delicate flowers, his sad expression as he tied the bundle together…

For her. 

She smiled to herself as she yawned. She would have to confront him tomorrow. Music, and distant crowd gasps and cheers finally lulled her to sleep. Morphing her dreams from the asylum, to a vibrant and warm carnival…

 

***

Viz was in his tent putting on his coat. The evening had gone on without a hitch; cleanup had only taken an hour… since Pietro Maximoff was so quick with his duties and picked up slack anywhere else… and now Viz could go off and do an activity that was a favorite part of his daily routine: picking flowers for Miss Maximoff.

When he headed for the flap of his tent, however, Thor was waiting just outside. Viz backed inside of his tent as the Nordic god pushed forward. His breathing was hitched, and his eyes dilated. Viz knew what was coming.

The god’s hand came up and cupped Viz’s chin. “Please… I need her tonight.”

Viz had a good run without these nightly visits, but they were bound to come back. The flesh was so easy to surrender to it’s urges. And Viz wanted to help his friend… ease his pain… but at what cost?

“I will take you.” Thor stated “In this form, or in hers… though I prefer hers.”

Viz eyes went down cast as he stripped off his own coat, his tall lean form shrunk, as the cogs and wires inside compressed to adhere to a smaller stature; impossibly small for him. His skin wavered and took on more of a pinkish hue compared to his fair skin, and his hair darkened and grew past his now feminine shoulders.

Thor’s breath shook with emotion and his expression softened. Lost in the pretense of it all, he swooped down and grabbed up Viz in to his arms. 

“Jane…. oh Jane…” His breath reeked of alcohol and his skin was balmy with the night air. He took the image of his love to the pallet on the ground, gently wedging a knee between it’s legs while he slipped it’s shirt off.

The image was almost perfect, except for a few differences here and there… but all Viz had to go off of was an old antiqued painting of Lady Jane, set lovingly at a shrine of candles in her widower husband’s tent. Having never heard Jane’s voice, Viz was to remain silent, to not ruin the illusion for Thor.

Viz just had to go elsewhere:

Little red flowers in a field…

Coulson saying hello…

Conversations with Anthony Stark about philosophy…

Seeing Wanda Maximoff…

Wanda Maximoff…

Thor’s grunts sped up.

Wanda Maximoff dancing…

Wanda Maximoff’s hair, down and free…

Wanda Maximoff as she rose into the air like an angel…

Viz’s breath quickened, which startled him. Never had he experienced a reaction like this before. Not with Thor. Not with any of the performers. His back was arched and his female chest was heaving.

Wanda…

He felt a surge brimming in him again at the thought of her, but he didn’t want it to. Not in this moment. Not like this. He shut his eyes and let out a sigh. Thor mistook it for excitement and redoubled his efforts for completion, never once questioning why this reaction had never happened before.

When Thor finally lay still, sated, Viz detached himself and assume his form again, dressing quickly and going to the fields behind Wanda’s car. The moon was cloudy, and despite the whirlwind of confusion, sadness, and shame within… Viz’s hands remained poised and steady as he braided another grouping of flowers together.

If his kind could cry… now would be a time to do so… but his eyes were glowing and dry…

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as me loving a Victorian/Circus AU gifset that someone made on Tumblr, in which Vision is the fire breather and Wanda is the new recruit. And then it kinda exploded from there! 
> 
> http://frankenfrady.tumblr.com/post/146709052823/visionxwanda-sv-manipau-13-still-not-over
> 
> I hope you enjoy!


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